Norfolk (Part 3) VA USA

Overnight the wind did indeed go round to the north and we had to get up to run additional lines to keep BV from being blown onto the dock.  After a midnight session of playing with mooring lines and fenders, the 0330 alarm to wake us for the Rugby World Cup bronze medal play-off on Friday 1 Nov was not a welcome sound.  And the result wasn’t a welcome one either, if not wholly unexpected.

Views from the masthead

It was still blowing quite hard at 0930 when, as agreed, we met up with Gary on his and Greta’s yacht William Barron.  The reason was that the wind indicator had stopped turning and Gary needed a hand to replace it.  Similarly, one of the electrical cables that should run up the inside of the mast had come out through the sail track on the aft edge of the mast.  That needed pushing back into its cable run and small pieces of foam inserting to keep it in its correct place.  I was very happy to go up the mast for Gary so he and Nicky winched me to the top and, after I had replaced the wind instrument (a very quick job, happily), they lowered me down in stages so that I could develop and perfect my wire-insertion-and-foam-plug-placement technique.  Since William Barron was built, Selden has changed the way they run cables up the inside of their masts and I can quite see why.  It took a couple of hours for me to reinsert the cable and replace all the foam plugs (albeit I had to learn the right technique), whereas with the modern conduits changing a cable should be the work of minutes.  But we completed the job comfortably before lunch and Gary no longer needs to search out a rigger to help him with the task.

We couldn’t visit Norfolk and not go aboard the USS Wisconsin, one of the last 2 battleships to see active service with the US Navy (the other being the USS Missouri, another Iowa Class battleship).  So, fresh from working on the mast, Nicky and I high-tailed it around to Nauticus, the National Maritime Centre off which theWisconsin is moored.

The mooring system itself is something of a work of art and was designed by the George Sadler’s firm (George Sadler as in Frances and the Fleming 55, Twin Cove).  He had told us (under firm prompting by Lydia) that the design spec was that the Wisconsin’s mooring system should be able to withstand a major tropical revolving storm and yet enable the ship to slip for sea within 24 hours should the Navy call upon her again, all whilst fulfilling the appropriate safety requirements for a vessel which will be visited by hundreds of members of the public each day, many of whom may have restricted mobility.  That’s quite some design spec.

Our tour around the Wisconsin was fascinating.  The ship was designed in 1938 but construction did not begin in Philadelphia until January 1941 and she was launched nearly 2 years later on 7 December 1943, the 3^rd of 4 Iowa Class battleships built.  In all, she saw just 14 years of active service but in that time served with distinction in the Japanese theatre of WWII, in the Korean War and, after nearly 40 years in the ‘mothball fleet’ followed by a major modernisation programme, in the First Gulf War.  She has been on display as a museum ship since April 2001, though she was maintained at a state of readiness for a further 8 years since, other than the Missouri (also a museum ship) the US no longer had any battleships.  In December 2009 she was formally transferred from the US Navy to the city of Norfolk.

The ship we toured was in many ways significantly different to that which served in the Far East in the middle of the 20^th century, primarily in terms of the weapons and communications systems on board and in terms of, for example, the medical facilities available on board and also in the number of personnel carried.  Amazingly, though the Wisconsin was designed to be manned by around 2000 personnel, in WWII, the number of additional guns on board meant that nearly 1000 more sailors were required!  It was clear that accommodating them and the food they required was a major logistical nightmare and many of the WWII sailors slept in bunks located in corridors.  However, by the time of the Gulf War, the ship’s complement was lower than originally planned, resulting in more space available for messdecks, recreation areas and, presumably, weapons stowage.

It goes without saying that this is a BIG ship.  As we walked around the foredeck, following the recommended route we couldn’t help but marvel at the size and length of the anchor chains.  One link in the chain weighs far more than BV’s anchor!  But the other thing that struck us was that a lot of the deck is still made of wood.  Apparently, a significant amount had been ripped up during the return to service modernisation and refit, primarily, one supposes, to enable the fitting of the cruise missile launchers and other more modern weaponry.  However, the majority of the deck is still covered in teak – though we can’t see the American sailors of the 1990s holystoning it each morning!

Unfortunately, the bridge and the command and control centres can only be viewed on guided tours.  We reckoned on there being enough to see without committing ourselves to an additional timing restriction and we were right, but it would certainly be something for another visit.

Below decks the accommodation area (including various messes, recreation areas etc) is a veritable maze and it is said that sailors new to the ship used to take days to learn their way around.  One level below the main accommodation deck, is the main machinery and technical deck.  Running through this is ‘Broadway’, a corridor that appears to run straight fore-aft, the length of the ship, interrupted only by tens of watertight doors, all of which are now kept open giving a striking view along the ship.

It’s really rather impressive how much of the ship we were able to see, and the museum staff are clearly continuing to work hard to open up new areas to the public.  When the Wisconsin first went on display, the only areas available to view were the weather decks.  Now there’s so much to see below decks that we spent most of our time walking the maze of corridors, workspaces and cabins.  And from none of them could we see out.  The only people with an outside view on the ship were the Admiral and his staff, those running the bridge and anyone working (or exercising) on deck.  Life in the Navy:  Join the Fleet, see the world – but mostly see the inside of a tin can.

Norfolk, Virginia, USA